Butcher of Zero
by Duke-Domino
Summary: Courier Six, Butcher of the Mojave, Hero of the NCR.. A man with many names that don't do justice to the man who did so much in such a short time frame. This man with a sadistic violent streak a hundred miles long and an axe to grind on anyone that tries to chain him is brought from the world he understands into the closest thing he knows to hell, servitude. Rated M
1. Chapter 1

Butcher of Zero

Chapter One: Turnabout Carnage

Disclaimer: Fallout: New Vegas is owned by Bethesda and Obsidian, I claim no ownership to Fallout: New Vegas or any of its properties.

Familiar of Zero is published by Media Factory and Seven Seas Entertainment, I claim no ownership to Familiar of Zero or any of its properties

The sun was bright and beating down hard on the sands and crags of the Mojave, the giant fire breathing ants were tunneling, the deathclaws were... Being deathclaws, and the legion was getting ground up in a turbine at the Hoover Dam, all in all a not so shabby day for the now legendary courier six who was busy getting ready to shove his power-fist directly up a certain Legates rectum with a manic grin on his face. "You ready you giant assclown? I'm about to make you a sock puppet, in the name of freedom!"

The courier, who was now busy shoving a giant glorified pneumatic piston up an armored giants rectum sideways, was surprisingly handsome considering the environment he lived in, which was honestly not saying much. He was very well muscled standing at a slightly above average six-foot-four and was missing several yellowed teeth, his hair was cropped short and a ruddy blonde, and was wearing bastardized Enclave power armor with several grisly trophies tied to it, Ceasars bloodied badge of office was the most prominent among them, with several other little things he tore off the corpses of those he killed hanging limply off his belt.

The Legate squirmed and shuddered once more as blood dripped from his mouth and laid limp and lifeless on the hot Mojave stone, the camp was now abandoned, only the dead and the new arrivals, the NCR rangers filling the now desolate and frankly contaminated hellhole. The stink of piss, blood, and fecal matter was secondary to the scent of the burning plastic and flesh of the burning legion bodies. The man responsible now sat on the freshest corpse and sighed.

Courier Six, Mojave Butcher, and recently Hero of the NCR. This man had many names, and for the life of him he couldn't remember his birth name, he remembered the end of his old life, and that was it, a smarmy looking man in a tacky suit with an ugly 9mm pistol pointed at his head, a shallow grave and the bang he expected to be the last in his relatively long life of 30 years in the cruel and wild south-western wasteland. This man was now staring at the sky while cleaning the ruptured organs out of the nooks and crannies of his favorite power-fist with a bottle of vodka and a skirt he yanked off a dead man in sports equipment.

The sound of a vertibird helicopter broke the silence, inside a well dressed man in a military uniform straightened his tie as the vertibird repositioned itself for landing. "Eyes sharp, uniform clean, cap straight, maybe I can get this asshole to just leave the Mojave to us, he's too dangerous." General Lee Oliver was one of the most average men one could imagine, cursed with incompetence and thirst for glory, he was certainly not the most perfect fit for a general, but he did one thing right, he looked and sounded the part. And he was hoping he could command the respect of this "Hero", at least enough so to send him on a suicide mission to get him out of their hair and give him a bullshit title to flaunt and make him seem important in the eyes of the common folks. He wiped the sweat building up on his brow as they touched down, the side door making a hissing sound as the hydraulic cylinder pushed the door open, letting the hot air in the previously air conditioned vertibird. General Oliver stepped out and strode purposefully towards the legend sitting on top of a deadman on a hill with a rag in his hand.

General Oliver stopped a few meters short of the man and cleared his throat, that was a cue for several NCR rangers to stand by his side while he started to speak to the man. "Courier, on behalf of the NCR I am to congratulate and thank you from the bottom of our hearts for helping us defend the lifeblood of the Mojave, you really saved our asses out there, and we don't even have to fight those brotherhood of steel nutjobs any more, we could use a hundred of you, scatter you all over the east and give those plumed fucks what for." The courier barely paid any heed to the general as he used his mouth to pull a particularly thick chunk of flesh from in between his powerfists finger coverings and spat it out next to the Generals boot. "Sounds like fun, but hell you only need one of me to spread freedom like a goddamned super virus." The Courier laughed, and laughed hard, throwing his head back in hysterics.

General Oliver furrowed his brow slightly, a hint of nervousness showing after actually listening to this wackjob. "Yeah, that's what I'd like to do anyways, but the president himself wants to thank you, and give you something rather special, your very own medal with your face stamped on it. You feeling up for a vertibird ride and hopefully a goddamned bath? Can't meet Kimball while smelling like blood and shit." Oliver laughed and jerked his thumb backwards towards the vertibird. The courier raised one eyebrow and grunted. "You're fuckin' with me, aren't you, a fucking medal? I shoved my fist up a giant man with a bumper for a swords ass, blew the head off the only real outward threats to the NCR, crippled the legion for good, likely sending them into a frenzied infight to see who's the big boss, and all I get is a shitty medal and a thank you from two limp dicked and even worse, incompetent politicians? Fuck you and your shitty medal." The Courier grumbled as he spit then put his power-helmet back on.

He grunted and stretched as much as he could in the armor and shoved past the now shaking with anger general. "What the fuck did you say to me you inbred fuckstick? You're officially recognized as a citizen of the NCR, and you dare say to a general 'fuck you'?" The courier stopped, turned around and spread his arms. "Look at what I just did here, I burnt this place to the ground, stomped on the legions nuts and sliced their neck, you don't want to start shit with a man like me, now I'm being nice to you since I like the ideals of freedom for the people, I suggest you capitalise on this and get back in your flying box, I am a real free man, I don't belong to anyone." The courier put his left arm in front of him and shoved his middle finger in the air before beginning to walk off. "

General Oliver raised his hand and pointed at the walking courier. "Kill that asshole, I ain't letting him piss on me and the NCR like that!" The rangers looked at each other and shrugged before shouldering their rifles. The couriers eyes widened as he turned to see it, before they fire he charged behind a boulder and dropped his backpack, the hail of gunfire would have been deafening if not for his power-helmet, he quickly tore into his pack and flung things out of the way until he found what he was looking for, a home made grenade, with a sick smile he casually held on for two seconds and lobbed it over the boulder, smiling even more as he heard the loud bang and an end to the fire. He peeked out from behind the rock to view the carnage.

He didn't have long to enjoy the view before the vertibird took off and several dozen NCR rangers began to storm the encampment with their M1 Carbines. "Fuck." Was all he could say before he was forced to take cover again and dig around for a gun, he pulled a stubby little rifle with a box magazine from his pack and quickly pulled the charging handle, he then reached his hand up to his neck and cranked the volume knob on his voice speaker to max. "Now listen here you sons of bitches, you walk away now and I don't turn on the NCR and waste your sorry asses for turning on me! This is my one and only warning before I do to you what I did to the legion!" The voice carried far and a short silence followed, he turned the volume back down to normal and waited, it wasn't long before a frag grenade landed at his feet. "Oh fu-" The courier snatched up his backpack and jumped down a ledge at full sprint, right into the river, and a bright green light.

Two rangers turned the corner with riot shotguns to look at where the grenade went off, they sighed as they survayed the blast area and found nothing. Touching his neck microphone he sighed. "Ranger Squad 13 reporting to Hoover dam command center, target courier has escaped. General Oliver is dead, over." He shook his head as the radio bud in his ear crackled to life. "Report received, status on defense mission?" The ranger repeated the process. "We won, Corporal, we won." The ranger rubbed his temples with his right hand and turned to the mess that was once a general. "That bastard just made us a bad enemy.".

Authors Notes: I have written several other moderately well received fan fictions on this site, under a different name before suddenly stopping for a few years. I believe my writing style has had time to improve and I hope you enjoy what I believe will be a wild ride for you readers. Feel free to leave constructive criticism. I know I won't be able to catch all the grammatical errors and I would appreciate any attempts to point them out to me via private message preferably.

On another note, I realize that my description of the couriers firearm is vague, but I know that if I get started actually describing a firearm of any sort in depth I'll end up writing several hundred words describing just the damned basics. So just imagine an M60 with a 15 inch barrel and no bipod.


	2. Chapter 2

Butcher of Zero

Chapter 2: An awkward meeting.

Disclaimer: Fallout: New Vegas is owned by Bethesda and Obsidian, I claim no ownership to Fallout: New Vegas or any of its properties.

Familiar of Zero is published by Media Factory and Seven Seas Entertainment, I claim no ownership to Familiar of Zero or any of its properties

The Courier, Mojave Butcher, hero of the NCR, a man of many titles and no real name. And currently the man barely managing to stand up. "Holy shit, I think I'm done with the Psycho for now." Many things became clear to him relatively quickly. First was that he was in a dry crater despite falling in a river, second was that he saw grass along the edges of said crater and that the soil looked fertile, and third, he heard laughter, and finally, that somehow he was undamaged if a quick pat down and noticing his backpack was close by was anything to go by. "Okay, now the magic question, where the fuck am I?" The courier snatched up his bag and tossed it out of the crater, following it by jumping and barely managing to crawl out.

Louise gasped and pointed at the crater, more specifically the black golem looking creature clawing his way out of it and speaking in gibberish. The laughter died down as the creature pulled itself all the way out and began to speak in some unintelligable language. "I.. I did it, it's not pretty but I did it." Louise smiled and began to stride towards the hulking creature standing nearly twice her height.

The courier sighed. "Maybe my voice filter is broken" he pulled his helmet off and was greeted with gasps, and confusion amongst the crowd of strange kids and the bald man. "I said where the hell am I?!" He shouted, then, a strange thing happened, a kid with pink hair of all things began to walk towards him, a look of determination in her eyes, a look that he grew familiar with as time went on, as people made decisions that would change their lives, a look he had many many times, and a look his companions had given him as they strode to their dooms. He knelled down to eye level and spoke to her. "Where am I, kid?" Her response was a grimace and a kiss to the cheek.

Surprise was his first reaction, and then pain, a searing pain in his hand that reminded him of when he caught his hand on fire in a fiend hideout when his flamer broke while he was using it and lit up his left arm, and now it was sharp, as if being written on my a dull knife by a very strong man. "My hand! What have you done to my hand!" The pink haired kid tried to back off but was quickly caught by the cape by his right hand. "What did you do to me!?" the Courier growled. "I sealed the contract, now let me go you brutish familiar!" The courier dropped her as the pain began anew, he pulled the power-fist off his hand and watched in horror as glowing letters carved themselves into his flesh. A bald man stepped forward and pointed a stick at him. "What's with you freaks! Is this some sort of cult, what did you do to me?" He yelled.

Colbert made way through the herd of children and pointed his staff at the yelling thing. "Silence, you are a familiar of one of my students, I know not what you're capable of but if you hurt one hair on any of these kids heads I'll burn you where you stand!" Colbert pulled Louise behind him. The beast of metal and flesh stared at him. "Familiar, students? Look baldy, I don't know what the fuck is going on but I'm seeing castles, green grass, and kids with weird hair holding sticks. Where am I?" The beasts eyes grew wide and his breathing became more stable, he inspected his hand and quickly pulled the large glove thing back on.

The courier was mad, and confused, he didn't enjoy being either of those things. He quickly fastened his power-fist back on and pointed at the bald man. "I want answers. I want answers right now." His voice dropped dangerously low, he was determined not to bend knee to the threats of a scrawny bald man with a stick. He looked around and grabbed his helmet and backpack.

Colbert slightly lowered his staff. "You're confused. Put down any weapons and we'll talk this out, you seem sentient enough, let's talk." Colbert could feel adrenaline pumping through his veins, he didn't know what the thing could do, or how tough it was, but he wasn't keen on finding out, he resisted sighing out of relief when the metal beast shook his fleshy head in a nod and said "Yeah, let's do that.". "You're in Tristain, a country in Halkeginia, where are you from, Germania, Galliia, Albion or Romalia?" The beast gave him a strange look. "The Mojave, you know, in America? Am I in Europe or something? I though Europe was dust." The beast sat its helmet down and dropped it's backpack. Now it was Colberts turn to be confused. "Mojave, never heard of it, nor have I heard of this America and Europe.

The courier began to breath heavily. "No, no no, this will be over soon and I'll wake up from this bad psycho trip covered in grime on a shore somewhere with all my shit stolen and naked, this ain't happening, this is a weird trip from doing too much psycho before the big fight, that's all, that's all." The courier sat down on the grass and cradled his head. "A little girl did not kiss my cheek, a bald guy is not conversing with me, and I am not seeing nice architecture, grass, and nice trees all around me in comfortable weather, someone slipped something in my water or something, this ain't happening."

Colbert lowered his staff. "He's talking to himself, this is shocking to say the least. "All kids but Ms. Valliare, go on and head to your next classes. And someone find the headmaster." The students quickly dispersed, casting strange glances back to the scene playing behind them as they moved in different directions towards their classes. "I know this must be a big shock to you, but we mean no harm." Colbert carefully moved closer. "Calm down, it'll be alright. No one is here to hurt you, you're safe and just somewhere you weren't expecting to be."

The Courier shot up and took in his surroundings, muttering to himself about trees. "Okay, okay, I'm fine, I'm composed, I'm lost but composed. That's it!" the courier yelled as he pulled his pip boy up and hit the map button. A detailed, but unmarked map popped up on screen, oddly showing no radiation level at all. "No radiation." He muttered. A large grin creeped onto his face. "No radiation!" He began to laugh throwing his hands into the air. "Do you two know what this means? This isn't the wasteland!" The courier felt as though a huge weight was pulled from his shoulders. "Tell me, tell me everything, about this glorious land. How did I get here?"

Colbert stepped back further from the now manic man. "You were summoned, by this young lady." Colbert pointed at Louise for emphasis. "Summoned, haven't heard that word since I went to Ceasars camp and put a bullet in his brain. What do you mean summoned?" The couriers eyes narrowed. "You were brought into our world, through magic, you aren't in your world any more, is my guess." The courier rubbed his eyes with one hand in disbelief and stared at them. "Magic, you said magic. Magic isn't real, magic is fairy tale gecko shit mentioned in stories for toddlers about knights, dragons, and wizards. Fairy tales, stories, it ain't real. You're pulling my leg, very funny, just for you I'll go kill whatever or whoever you want killed. Gotta be someone right?" The Courier laughed.

Colbert backed further away. "No, no I don't want anyone or thing killed just who are you anyways?" The Courier smiled at this. "I'm the Courier, I carry messages, or packages where they need to go, and if that package is a club to the knees, a bullet in the brain, or simply a bottle of whiskey I'll take any job, and spread freedom in the form of bullets to the heads of tyrants." The big man placed his hand on his chest. "Louise, just what in Brimnirs name did you summon?" Louise couldn't suppress the look of revulsion and horror on her face. The big man smiled even brighter. "So where can a man spend his caps and get a stiff drink in the face of new opportunities. A blank slate has fallen into my lap and I say it's time to write on it! With blood, and gunpowder!"

Louise couldn't understand any of this, she summoned a giant man in strange armor as her familiar, I a giant man in strange armor that apparently kills people and is very creepy. Swallowing her nervousness she began to form words. "Silence! You will not kill anyone unless I tell you to, commoner!" She pushed Colberts hand aside and walked up to him. "I am your master and you will do as I say or be punished!" The big man looked down at her. "Sorry kid, you're too young for me and I don't like playing sub!" The courier laughed, even harder than when he started shouting about radiation. Louise felt her face burn a cherry red and began to shake. "You are my familiar, you do not back talk me!" Louise pulled out her wand and yelled, a weak explosion engulfing him and dust being blown into the air. She huffed and began to walk away as the dust cleared and the laughing stopped.

The courier was not pleased, he was covered in dust, and his hair was slightly singed. And he was just told by a little pink haired girl that he was her familiar. He strode forward angrily out of the dust surprising Colbert and pushing him aside as he snatched the girl by the cape and pulled her wand out of her hand. "I have no masters, girl, I don't hurt kids, but you pull that again and I'll snap that twig of yours in half and show you how to 'punish' someone." Louise, gave him a hard glare. "You try it and you'll die, no one hurts a noble and gets away with it, you hurt me and you'll be killed." Louise had a fire in her eyes, this girl was stupid or brave, maybe both. "You got spunk, kid. You'll either go far or burn out quick like that." The courier put her down. "Maybe we can work something out. I won't be your familiar or whatever, but I'll be your body guard if the pay is right. If you're some kind of noble, then I'll bet you can pay me well. The best doesn't work for cheap." The courier grinned and stared at the girl. "You're mine, Courier, you're my familiar, if you need to call yourself a body guard to keep your pride so be it, but you do as I say."

Louise could hardly control her heart beat, she was frightened, angry, and staring a being twice her size in the face and telling him that he is her familiar. What's worse, the creature shrugged off her explosive magic as if it was nothing. "So, I guess I'm hired, when's my payday and where's my bunk?"

Authors note: A definite change in brutality from the first chapter, but as I mentioned in this one, he was hopped up on Psycho and several other wasteland drugs. I don't have the story completely mapped out, but I have no plans for romantic pairings of any kind, as dark and frankly repulsive as the first chapter was I also have no intentions to stop with the carnage, it will be spaced out and not as nasty for the most part, but hey, the wasteland is a crazy and dark place, and a crazy and drug addled person with some brain damage from a bullet was pulled out of it. In retrospect I went too far in the first chapter during the introduction to this courier, but he is an extreme case of an exceptional person with exceptional issues for the purposes of creating an interesting story.


	3. NOTICE ON STORY

Duke-Domino here, I'm doing a rewrite of this story since I looked back and realized that I need to change some things. Instead I plan on releasing 10,000 or so word chapters and greatly fixing the flow of things. Anyways please look forward to me fixing this story since I seriously could have done much better if I stopped and actually looked at what I wrote after I was done.


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